


Without Exercise of Will

by OzQueen



Category: One Tree Hill
Genre: Alternate Canon, Canon Het Relationship, Episode Related, Episode: s03e13 The Wind That Blew My Heart Away, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Missionary Position, Porn Battle, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:23:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/pseuds/OzQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grieving for Ellie, Peyton drives to Savannah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Exercise of Will

**Author's Note:**

> Set just after episode 03x13 The Wind That Blew My Heart Away. This is the episode where Ellie dies, and it always breaks my heart. :( Peyton seems to shoulder a lot of burdens alone, and I wish this is how things had gone instead.

The afternoon is bleached and cold, and Peyton doesn't know how long she's been sitting here with the empty urn between her knees, but there's no warmth left in her; none at all.

When she gets to her feet the sun is setting without colour in the sky, the shadows swooping in to steal away the light. She turns her Comet back onto the road without thinking about it. She doesn't start thinking again until the gas light comes on and she realises both she and her car are running on empty.

The attendant at the gas station gives her a wary look, but Peyton ignores him. She buys coffee that's not hot enough and too bitter, and hits the road again, not even caring that her eyes won't focus, not caring she should have taken an exit thirty miles back.

It's not until she hits the South Carolina border she really knows where she's going. The coffee sits like acid in her stomach and her cheeks are tight with dried tears. The night air is cold on her skin, but she leans on the gas and she can feel her heart beating again.

-

It's after midnight when she reaches Savannah and she realises she has no idea where Jake lives, or if he's even there anymore. She hasn't called him in months, but she still has his number stored in her phone, a few text messages from him that are becoming increasingly buried beneath others that are far, far less important.

If he doesn't answer she really is going to die. This will be the final weight on her back, and she'll snap – break completely. 

But he does answer. He answers like maybe he's saved her name in his phone too, and he sees it come up but he doesn't really believe it, and his voice is a little thick with sleep; it comes with a rough edge. “Peyton?”

She cries, and cries, and cries.

“What's happened?” he asks. “What's happened? Talk to me, talk to me.” 

And when she can't, he talks, and she sobs and listens to him.

“I'm so glad you called,” he breathes. “I miss you, Peyton Sawyer. I’m in a house all alone with my thoughts, and me and my conscience ain't exactly getting along these days.”

“Why not?” she asks. She smears a fist over her skin and it comes away wet with tears.

“How much time you got?” he asks, and he gives a little laugh that makes her smile in spite of everything. He says, “I dropped the ball with us, huh.”

“No,” she whispers. “Just... life got in the way.” 

“I even miss Tree Hill, you know,” he says. “I keep meanin' to come back and visit, but things here are – it's hard. I gotta share Jenny with Nicki and I can't step a toe out of line or that's it, you know, and – and I lost you, and I can't lose Jenny, too. That'd – I mean, I cant lose her. And that's why I've just... I’m sorry.”

“No,” Peyton whispers, “don't.” She leans her head back against the seat behind her and looks up, but there are no stars out. “Are you still in Savannah?” she asks softly.

-

Jake's waiting on the porch for her, and Peyton leaps out of her car, staggering when she hits the ground. He holds his arms open for her and she runs straight for him, not knowing how it's possible to still be crying.

He's in a t-shirt and old sweats, his feet bare and his hair pillow-flattened on one side.

“I woke you,” she whispers.

“I don't care.” He presses a kiss to the crown of her head and pulls her so close she lets her feet leave the ground for a moment, her arms locked around his shoulders and her face against his neck. “Tell me what's wrong,” he says, his breath warm in her hair.

“Everyone leaves,” she says desperately, squeezing her eyes closed. “Everyone always leaves.” 

-

Jake's bed is warm and comfortable. Peyton kicks her jeans out onto the floor and, as soon as Jake settles next to her, she reaches for him. He pulls her close and puts his head next to hers on the pillow, slips his knee between her legs so they're entwined. 

He doesn't ask what's wrong, and she can't find the words yet – can't bring them to the surface. 

She feels miles away from everyone else and it's so, so lonely. It's the second time she's grieving for a mother lost; it feels like the thousandth time her heart has been wrenched out, and all of her keys have finally wound down, bringing her to a stop in the middle of nowhere.

“Tell me about Jenny,” she whispers, and her trembling thumb glances over the shadows on Jake's cheek, the dark circles beneath his eyes.

“She's growin' up way, way too fast,” he says, and he gives her a rueful smile. “She's equally the most wonderful and most difficult thing in my life, and every day I wonder how it's possible to love her as much as I do.”

“She's not here now?”

Jake shakes his head and his eyes close for a long moment. “Nicki and I are sharin' custody,” he whispers. “Between school, and tryin' to pay the rent on this place just so I can stay close to her – I don't get to see Jenny much these days.”

Peyton's thumb rests against his mouth. She doesn't know what to say, but she realises Jake must be lonely too – maybe more so than she. 

“I should have called,” she whispers. “I just figured...”

She doesn't know what she figured. She has no excuses. She let herself feel this goodbye more than she needed to, and the knife of regret seems to twist deeper into her heart as she realises she had accepted loss instead of fighting it, despite Jake still being around to be fought for.

“You're only a phone call away,” she says, and her voice cracks. She can feel her eyes burning with tears again, and her vision blurs. “Why didn't I...?”

His brow touches hers and his palm is wide and warm against her cheek. His fingers stroke her temple and the curve of her ear. “I didn't, either,” he says. “Just life, I guess. We shouldn't blame ourselves for getting caught up in it.”

“Life isn't worth getting caught up in if you lose sight of what's important,” she says, and she presses her mouth to his, her tears sliding down over her cheeks.

He kisses her and she can taste the salt on her lips. He rolls her over, hands cupping her hips, thumbs hooked in the hem of her t-shirt. “Tell me what's wrong,” he pleads quietly, his brow resting against hers. He traces the tip of his nose against her cheek and kisses her again, and she winds her legs around his hips, hugging him to her.

“I just want to feel alive,” she whispers. 

His hands linger against her hips and her stomach as she peels her t-shirt away and unhooks her bra. She laces her fingers with his and guides his palms over her skin. He's hesitant to touch her at first, and questions keep dying on his lips, lost against her mouth when she rises to him, again and again, to kiss him. 

“Please, Jake,” she whispers, cupping his jaw in her hands. “Please, please, I love you.” 

She pulls his shirt over his head and she can feel the hairs on his chest against her bare skin. Her nerves tighten and she feels raw; feels like he could see right through her if he wanted to, every secret she's ever had on display.

He threads fingers into her hair and trails one hand over her thigh. His fingers brush the front of her panties and she feels her nerves pull taut like wire – and the relief of it, of feeling something, is almost enough to have her crying again.

“Peyton,” he whispers.

“Please, just...” She kisses him again, fierce this time, chasing him with all the energy she has left, aching to have him closer to her. He's warm and firm and breathing, living. There are too many scars on her heart now to heal, but this is the closest she's come to feeling whole in what feels like forever.

His hand slips into her panties and his thumb glances over her clit. He presses two fingers up into her, murmuring something lost against her mouth. She can feel him hard against her thigh and she's impatient to have him closer, as close as he can be.

She shudders when he curls his fingers and strokes inside her, her flesh slick and smooth against his skin. She bites down on her lip and closes her eyes, rocking her hips against his hand, feeling his breath on her cheek. 

“Tell me you're okay,” he whispers. 

“I will be.” It's almost a sob. “I didn't know where I was going,” she admits, and she hugs him closer to her, buries her face against his neck. “I just finished up here with you. And this is it, this is where I need to be; where I should be.” 

He drags her panties down and stops to roll a condom on, kicking his pants out the end of the bed, his skin bare and hot against hers, the cold bedroom air thin and sharp whenever he moves away from her. 

He moves into her slowly, like he's still giving her a chance to push him away, but she urges herself up to him and shudders, her eyes closed. She kisses him again and he starts to move against her, his hips thrusting slowly, one hand braced against her hip. Peyton's bare heels slide over the bedsheets and her skin feels electric, all of her nerves buzzing, her body trapped between the mattress and him.

A moan is soft at the back of her throat as he pins her, holds her closer to him, his hands spanning against her body, thumbs brushing her nipples or the slight dip of her waist.

When he moves over her, thrusts against her, she catches flashes of what her life could be like, and there are no goodbyes that last forever, or that bring heartache. There are smiles, and there is hope, and music, and the knowledge that he loves her and she loves him, with no drama in between.

“I'm not saying goodbye,” she whispers, and her breath hitches in her throat.

“No,” he says, and he dips his brow to rest with hers. “No, no goodbyes.” 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

When he shifts to rub the tips of his fingers against her clit, his hand between them, his mouth warm and wet against the jumping pulse in her neck, she arches. The light behind her eyelids sparks white and her nails leave crescents in his skin as she clings tightly to him, locking her legs tightly around him until she can breathe again.

He sinks on top of her, his breath gasping, hard and damp against her shoulder. 

Her heart is hammering in her chest, louder and fast than it's ever beat before. She lets out a breathless laugh out against the top of Jake's head, hugs him tightly to her and says, “Alive.”


End file.
